Just like your next of kin Where you don't recognize one face Don't unpack your old suitcase
You must go and you must ramble Through every briar and bramble Till your life is in a shambles Born to wander, born to wonder Even when you're six feet under
Turn your back on the sun You keep this all up in your head Now your face is turning red
You can smell it everywhere Its in your clothes, it's in her hair Ah, you better get out of there It's gonna take a midnight train To straighten out your winding brain